


Blood on the Mountaintop

by sshomoerotica



Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: Vengeance
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 05:21:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18088202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sshomoerotica/pseuds/sshomoerotica
Summary: Agron sets his sword aside and reaches out, glad to find his touch welcome when Nasir settles against his side, cheek tucked to shoulder.





	Blood on the Mountaintop

**Author's Note:**

> So, hey there. I'm only like, what, 6 years late to this fandom?  
> Between this and Black Sails, man -- Starz really knew what they were doing, didn't they?  
> Anyway! Coda to the season finale of Vengeance.

Ashur's blood is yet wet upon the stony top of Vesuvius when Nasir comes to Agron, crouched by a fire and honing his blade.

"That was the Syrian, wasn't it?" He asks. Agron looks up at him, and allows himself the moment to wonder at the beauty of this man; face flushed with the cold, hair yet tied but still flying about his face in the wind. "The one you spoke of, when I revealed myself to be of such lineage."

Agron glances over at the men who were making to bring Ashur's head to the Praetor; beyond them Crixus and Naevia sit, as an island to themselves, not to be reached by anyone or anything.

"Yes." He looks at Nasir as he does, and notes how little there is between Ashur and Nasir to name them kin in country. Where Ashur was breadth and serpent's tongue, Nasir is slight and soft of voice.

"It is no wonder then that all of Syria was lost from your good faith." Nasir spits the words from his lips like poison. Agron, although he thinks he does not flatter himself to believe he knows Nasir so well as his own hands, is always struck by what will fuel the fire in this feral, gorgeous man. How he lived his life as a soft and favored body slave with this flame yet inside him is a mystery that Agron leaves to the Gods. "Naevia was shy in speaking of her past. I thought I could yet assume to know, as many the hardships of a woman in slavery are known to me."

Here he paused, and Agron knew in his heart that this was a moment for Chadara, who Agron and many others never knew for full worth. Yet she was Nasir's companion in his villa, and was held treasured friend for years. Agron sets his sword aside and reaches out, glad to find his touch welcome when Nasir settles against his side, cheek tucked to shoulder.

His nose is cold against Agron's neck, but his breath is warm as he says, "I believe I speak for us all when I wished to have a chance to cut the filth myself. Even as he was bested he could not keep from spilling further venom, attempting to overpower Naevia with reminders of his own villainy. Truly she did the world a kindness in ridding us of him."

"You speak true." Agron murmurs. "And you yet know only an inkling of his misdeeds. I, even, know less than some. Everyone who has ever known him has found him to be a serpent, and many have wished to sever his head from his shoulders. Yet I am glad it was Naevia, and never found myself more proud of one I call friend."

"I cannot believe how Crixus let her do such a thing." Nasir twists to sneak a sidelong glance at Agron. "Did you see how he at one moment held back Spartacus?"

Agron hums a sound of affirmation, yet as he looks down at Nasir and catches his eye, he cannot help the way his breath also catches in his throat. 

He touches his fingers lightly along Nasir's bare shoulder, tracing them up his neck until he grips his neck surely against his palm. "I confess that I for once think the Gaul my better."

Nasir shifts, pulling back and looking to Agron with no small amount of alarm. Agron holds his course, lifting his rough-hewn hands to Nasir's weather-warm cheeks.

"For I fear," he says, tipping their foreheads together, "that in same predicament, I could not stand idle and leave my heart to risk death without me at his side."

Agron leads his fingers back to tangle in Nasir's hair and holds him close, kissing deeply this man who gives him reason for breath. 

"Foolish German." Nasir hisses, and takes Agron's mouth with vigor.

 

 


End file.
